


Don't Regret My Love

by Swifty



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Captivity, Conditioning, Crazy, Creepy, Dark, Delusions, Grimdark, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insanity, Kidnapping, Love/Hate, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Relationship, Pain, Panic Attacks, Psychological Horror, Psychosis, Stalking, Torture, Twisted, Unrequited Love, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 06:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4949854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swifty/pseuds/Swifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you were here, I'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear and appeal to all your fears.<br/>If you were mine, if you were only mine, I'd bring you so much further down and twist your mind until the end of time.<br/>You will never realise what darkness lies inside my mind" - Sirenia (My Mind's Eye).</p><p>*Discontinued*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start of the Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh. 'Tis October - the spirit of Halloween! Time for spookiness! 
> 
> The idea for the story came from a friend and fellow writer, synystermoxley, when we were discussing yandere and obsession. If Chris has a stalker in her story, which is CM Punk, then who should be Eddie's? Lo and behold, this was born.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic will be much shorter compared to my other stories. 10 to 15 chapters at most.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!
> 
> -Swifty

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sprays of blood painted the marbled walls a marvelous shade of crimson.

 

An agonized shriek ripped out of the trapped man’s throat from where the sharp edge of the blade stabbed into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, angry claws of pain dragging his energy away and leaving him gasping.

 

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry,” the younger man with braided multi-colored hair said, the words tripping over themselves in haste. The anguish in his face contorted his features. “I only wanted to have a taste, but you wouldn’t stop crying,” he choked, bringing the knife up to lick the dripping blood. “Aren’t you glad you’re here? I had to save you from Chris. He was corrupting you. I couldn’t let that happen. You do understand, don’t you?” he continued, moistening his lips as his emerald green eyes lit up with maniac fever. “You look so pretty in red, babe.”

 

Eddie flinched away when a taped hand caressed his cheek, shivering violently. Half his face was coated red from a deep gash above his left brow and he was having a difficult time seeing straight -- the psychopath kept blurring into multiple copies. “No, I don’t. Wh-Why, Jeff? Why are you doing this?” he wheezed out, coughing up more blood and his chest shaking under the herculean task of breathing.

 

Jeff’s smile grew and he moved in until their noses were brushing, the latino stiffening under the intimate contact. “Isn’t that obvious? You’re an angel. I had to get you away from the devil,” he purred, flickering his tongue out to trace the shape of the swollen lips.

 

Eddie whined, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth when fingers tweaked one of his nipples on his bare chest, the collared shirt unbuttoned and tangled around his cuffed arms.

 

Jeff pulled away, disappointment sparking in him at the chicano’s lack of response. “You must be tired. I’ll come back later and then we can play,” he murmured, ruffling the tossled hair as he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut.

 

The absence of sounds made Eddie open his eyes and he glanced around the room fearfully, squirming uncomfortably. The damned teasings had brought on an unwanted erection straining the fabric of his jeans, but at least the freak hadn’t noticed. He sent out a prayer of gratitude to the heavens that he’d remained relatively unmolested -- even if he could do without the stab wound. He could feel the wetness of the blood soaking the sheets underneath him and plopping on the floor below. He didn’t know where the hell he was. His only clue was that he was on a twin sized bed, laying on the exposed metal frame without a mattress for support, the blankets his only source of comfort. His hands and legs were shackled in iron chain, leaving him splayed. The vulnerability made him cold with sweat.

 

There was a sharp tang of semen filling the air and his nose wrinkled in disgust. _‘Pendejo probably jacked off while I was out,’_ he thought, paling as he realized how truly helpless he was in this situation. The injury hadn’t been treated and he didn’t have any idea when Jeff would return, or when _(if)_ he would see Chris again. He shuddered and lifted his head, his gaze widening in shock when he saw lines of red along his stomach. _‘When did that bastardo …’_ He suddenly became dizzy, nausea washing over him, and he collapsed, the back of his head banging against the metal outline of the bed.

 

_‘Chris...help me. Please .. I’m scared.’_

**  
  
**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**  
  
**

_One Month Earlier_

**  
  
  
**

 

 

“I’m telling you, I do not like Taco Bell!”

 

“Why, eh? Eh? You a Mex, yes?”

 

“Wha-? Taco Bell isn’t Mexican!” Eddie yelled, twisting Tajiri’s ear. “You’re an idiota, holmes.”

 

“Eddie, stop being childish.”

 

He glanced over his shoulder, pouting at the Canadian. “But, cariño, he’s an uncultured puta. I can’t let him go on thinking that Taco Bell is Mexican food,” he protested, not letting go of the Japanese wrestler.

 

“I don’t care. Play nice,” Chris scolded, slapping the latino’s wrist and freeing Tajiri.

 

“Thank you!” Tajiri cried out, scrambling away under Eddie’s glare before he became a victim of the Latino Heat.

 

“Try Chipotle!” Chris advised loudly, smirking when his cheri groaned.

 

“That’s not it either! Though it’s better than Taco Hell,” Eddie sighed, fixing his hair. Arms wrapped around his hips and he was pulled back into the warm body, breaths tickling his ear.

 

“Cheer up, or I’ll go Wolverine on you. Damn if anyone sees us.”

 

The heated growl fanned the flames of his arousal and he nudged against Benoit’s hardness poking the small of his back. “Sure you’re up to that, papi?” he crooned, tilting his head so he grazed against the other man’s neck, flashing a seductive look at his lover.

 

Chris’ heart skipped a beat at the darkened brown eyes full of lust and white teeth nipping slightly into the bottom lip, all the blood rushing straight to his groin. “Wanna find out, tease?” he hissed, snaking a hand to cup the younger wrestler’s ass and relishing in the soft moan.

 

“I’m only a tease if I don’t deliver,” Eddie retorted cheekily. “I have every intention to do just that.” He turned around and pressed himself up against the Canadian. “You just have to wait until I’m done with my match,” he whispered huskily, planting a chaste kiss and throwing a flirtatious wink before slinking away to head to the locker room.

 

Chris rolled his eyes and willed his body under control, holding the duffle bag in front of his crotch. He prayed the show would be over soon so he can take the chicano to the hotel.

**  
  
**

 

 

* * *

 

**  
  
  
**

 

 

After the match with Charlie Haas, Eddie decided to take a quick cold shower to cleanse himself of the sweat. He scrubbed his skin with soap, rinsing himself of the foam and squirting shampoo into his hair. As he massaged his scalp, he heard a faint sound outside the stall. He frowned and craned his neck, cocking his head to the side, but the rushing water drowned out any noise. He waited another minute, but nothing happened and so he shrugged and resumed washing. He twisted the knobs to turn the shower off, groping for the towel hanging from the overhead rail. He dried his hair and draped the cloth around his waist to cover his lower body. He swiped the curtains aside and stepped out, bumping into someone. He let out a startled squeak and stumbled backwards, nearly sliding on the tiled floor. “What the hell?!” he exclaimed sharply, looking up and recognizing the blushing man. “Jeff? How long have you been standing there?” he questioned.

 

Jeff’s cheeks turned pink and he averted his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the latino half naked in front of him. “Um, I just got here. Matt said he was gonna clean up so I thought you were him, sorry,” he stammered, rubbing his elbow.

 

“You wait for your hermano out here a lot?” Eddie commented wryly, raising an eyebrow.

 

“N-No! Of course not!”

 

“I’m only joking, ese. You don’t need to be so defensive,” Eddie cut in playfully, his eyes bright with mischief. He sweeped past the lean man, walking to the main locker area to yank clothes out of his bag. “You’re too stiff, poco hombre.”

 

“I’m taller than you,” Jeff grumbled. He may not be fluent in Spanish, but he’d hung around his co-workers long enough to pick up certain phrases.

 

“Everybody is taller than me,” Eddie complained half-heartedly, slipping his boxers on underneath the towel before taking it off. “Still, you need to lighten up, ese. You’re too young to be tense like that.”

 

“I’m almost in my 30’s,” Jeff pointed out, huffing in annoyance. “Sorry, it’s just been stressful lately,” he admitted.

 

Eddie softened at the low words. He tugged a pair of jeans and a sweater on before placing a hand gently on Hardy’s shoulder. “It’ll get better. You’re not alone,” he murmured, offering a warm smile.

 

Jeff returned the smile, a little shy under the latino’s kindness and he fidgeted. “Thank you.”

 

“Here, I’ll give you my phone number. Call me if you ever need anything, even just to talk,” Eddie added, snatching a piece of paper out of his pocket to jolt down his digits and handing it over to the braided man. “Seriously. I don’t care what time it is. If you need me, I’m only a message away.”

 

Jeff took the paper, careful not to crinkle it. He gazed wide-eyed at the chicano. “R-Really?”

 

“Si. I know what it’s like to feel alone, believe me. If you need an amigo, you have me,” Eddie reassured, squeezing Jeff’s shoulder briefly. “I’m gonna go. See you around, holmes,” he said, picking up his bag and leaving the locker room, raising his hand in farewell.

 

“Bye,” Jeff echoed, still holding the note. He memorized the numbers, his heart thumping in his chest. “He really is an angel,” he breathed in awe.

 

“I don’t know why you fall for guys you can’t have.”

 

He grimaced at the new voice, glaring at his brother who’d just stepped in. “He’ll be mine, just wait,” he retorted quietly.

 

Matt snorted in derision. “Really, bro? Dunno if you know this, but that little crush of yours is in a relationship,” he sneered, crossing his arms.

 

Jeff’s face soured further, his scowl deepening. “I’m acutely aware of that, thank you,” he nearly spat. The Canadian was proving to be a hindrance to his plans, but he would figure something out. He had to. Benoit did not deserve such a divine heavenly being. The fact that asshole was probably tainting Eddie made him want to slowly cut off the man’s limbs with a butter knife.

 

“Come on, let’s leave this dump,” Matt quipped, tossing his car keys up in the air and catching it as it fell down.

 

“Right behind you,” Jeff muttered, his voice considerably calmer now. He watched his brother leave and glanced at the discarded towel on the bench. He grasped it and brought it up, inhaling deeply and basking in the scent. He then stuffed it in his bag and followed Matt out of the building.

 

_‘I’ll get my angel.’_

**  
  
  
**

 

* * *

* * *


	2. The Color of Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Remember I will always love you,  
> As I claw your fucking throat away.  
> It will end no other way”  
> \- PUSHIT, Tool

> * * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

_The Following Week_

 

 

 

 

“Um, excuse me.”

 

Eddie jumped at the soft voice, whirling around. “Jesus Christ, Jeff! You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that,” he grumbled, adjusting the bandage tapes on his wrists.

 

“I’m s-sorry,” Jeff mumbled, flustered. He raised his eyes bashfully, grateful to find that the chicano wasn’t being serious. “I, um, I need your advice on something,” he added, his face reddening. _‘Don’t get cold feet,’_ he told himself sternly.

 

Eddie blinked at the meek question. “Anyone would think you’re scared of me from the way you talk,” he joked, throwing a disarming smile at the younger man. “Go ahead, I won’t bite, silly niño.” He leaned against the wall to take the strain off of his ankle. He’d pulled it jogging outside the hotel earlier this morning.

 

Jeff brightened up a little now that Guerrero hadn’t turned him away. The corners of his lips lifted into a small grin. “Thank you. It’s just this promo and I’m not sure how to sell my lines,” he muttered, playing with a strand of his braided hair.

 

“What’s the story?”

 

“Uh, I’m feuding with Punk and I gotta show how angry I am, but not like wild angry. Problem is I’m not sure how. I only know how to play the batshit crazy character,” he explained, sighing as he stood next to the latino, their arms brushing ever so slightly. The warmth from the other man’s body made him shiver and he took delight in how Eddie had to look up at him. It gave him a sense of power.

 

“Oh! I see, hmm,” Eddie brought up his hand, thumb digging into his chin as he considered Hardy’s dilemma. “Well, I do know that you don’t shout and spit like you usually do.”

 

Jeff fought the urge to roll his eyes. _That_ was obvious, but he didn’t say anything. He honestly was happy just to listen to his co-worker talk. The Spanish accent had a little rhythmic musical lilt to it and he wanted to wrapped himself up in the raspy voice. He closed his eyes and basked in the presence of the wrestler whom he’d admired.

 

“And that should probably solve your issue,” Eddie finished, punching Hardy’s shoulder playfully. “That sour face of yours is your achilles heel sometimes,” he laughed.

 

Jeff frowned, realizing he’d tuned the Mexican out and completely missed the conversation. Not that it was important; he already knew how to shoot the promo. This was merely an excuse to be close to Eddie. “Yeah, tell me about it. By the way, I heard you’re going to become a road agent or something like that,” he quipped absently.

 

“Si. Part time. I want to take it easy, and to be with Chris more often,” Eddie assented with a cocky smirk. The position would be finalized by the end of this week. He would have a last segment on the next SmackDown taping. While he was sad to leave the wrestling ring, he didn’t have the energy anymore. He would remained with the company, occasionally going around to recruit new talent, but he would have more freedom. Benoit would be doing the same in a couple years and they would have a chance to kick back and relax for a bit.

 

“Is Chris all you think about?” Jeff muttered under his breath. Hearing the affectionate tone underneath the latino’s voice at the mention of the name was disgusting. He really couldn’t understand why someone so pure like Eddie would choose to be with filth. _‘Chris is the  devil_. _He trapped the angel and contaminated this beautiful creature.’_ He bared his teeth at the thought. It was a disgrace -- especially when Eddie should be his.

 

“Los sientos, did you say something?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side as he caught the darkened gaze. “You seem mad, ese.”

 

“No, it’s nothing,” Jeff assured, flashing a smile. “I’m just a little cranky today.” He relaxed his face so that it was back into a neutral expression, leaving no traces of his righteous fury.

 

“You need a hobby, amigo. You ‘oughta join me and Chris this weekend. We’re catching a hockey game,” Eddie suggested. “It’d be fun, although the crowd can get a little loco.”

 

The idea of being in close proximity with the revoltingly loving couple made Jeff nauseous, and yet the opportunity to hang with the chicano was irresistible. “I’ll think about it,” he promised.

 

Eddie beamed, happy that the long-haired wrestler might tag along. “Padrísimo! I’m gonna go talk to one of the stagecrew members,” he murmured, moving in to give a friendly hug to Hardy.

 

Jeff’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth falling open. He wrapped his arms around the slender torso, hands fisting the back of Eddie’s shirt, and he enjoyed the fact that the other wrestler had to stand up on toes just to reach him. He nuzzled against the side of the latino’s neck, the scratch of stubbles tickling his cheek. “Th-Thanks for the a-advice,” he stammered.

 

Eddie took a step back, missing the frustrated look from his co-worker. “No problem. Adios, Jeff,” he spoke, walking up to the entrance.

 

Jeff watched the retreating form, a pang in his gut at the profound absence. He made a mental note to meet with the two men on Friday. It would get him outside and he would be able to be with Eddie, even if it meant having to put up with Chris.

**  
  
**

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Friday_

**  
  
**

 

Eddie and Chris were waiting by the parking garage near the ice rink stadium. Headlights flooded over them as a red hyundai pulled in.

 

“Must be Jeff,” Eddie commented, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans and scuffing his sneakers against the loose gravels in the cracked pavement.

 

“It was nice of you to invite him,” Chris remarked, adjusting the drawstrings of his sweatshirt.

 

“Si, same. Sorry that I didn’t check with you first, papi.”

 

“Oh, I’m not mad. Not at all. That kid seems to be a bit of a recluse. I’m glad you’re helping him out.” And it was true. Chris was proud that his cheri was looking out for the younger wrestler. Jeff was an oddball, always quiet and never socializing with anyone backstage except for Matt. He was a little off put at the permanent glare Hardy always sported, but he’d long ago chalked it up to the introverted slash antisocial nature. Hell, Eddie used to tease him about it when he was a hermit.

 

Eddie exhaled lightly, thankful that his cariño wasn’t upset with him. Not that he thought the Canadian would be, but Benoit did sometimes have a pet peeve of last minute changes to plans. He inclined in to peck his lover on the nose. “You’re in a good mood today,” he murmured.

 

Chris blushed and dipped his head so that their lips met. “It’s because I’m with you. You’ll always be the highlight of my day,” he whispered.

 

Eddie sighed happily and embraced the taller man, contentment warming him. “I don’t think that’s true, holmes. You’re having an affair with hockey,” he teased, laughing when Benoit groaned.

 

“Must you be a smartass?”

 

“Not my fault you’re easy bait,” he crowed, grinning at the chagrined look.

 

“Ahem.”

 

The sound of a throat clearing made the both of them turn around to see Jeff waiting impatiently behind them.

 

“Is the game inside, or am I watching it right now?”

 

The sarcastic commentary brought a rosy color to Chris’ cheeks, Eddie’s chortling only deepening the flush. “Um, yeah, it’s inside,” he coughed.

 

“Glad you could come, Jeffy!” Eddie welcomed cheerfully, bounding over to his friend and grabbing a hand, tugging the tattooed American after him. “Let’s go get our tickets.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Chris murmured to Hardy, trailing after them.

 

“Yeah, you should be.”

 

Chris frowned, stopping in his tracks. _‘What?’_  He stared at the receding back, confusion wreathing around him. He must have had bumped his head because there was no way he’d heard Hardy right. He shook his discomfort away, pushing the doubts out of his mind and quickening his pace to catch up to the wrestlers.  What’s important now was that they’re about to watch a good old-fashioned hockey game.

**  
  
  
**

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**  
  
**

 

It was only an half hour into the tournament, but Jeff was already regretting that he came here. Eddie and Chris hadn’t left each other’s sides once. It was sickening. This was the definition of everything that was wrong with the world -- it infuriated him. He growled low in his throat and fisted his hands in his pockets, fingers toying with a small pen knife he kept there. The feel of the blade against his skin made him dizzy with exhilaration and he imagined slicing away the angel’s tanned flesh and severing the devil’s throat. He began trembling with excitement.

 

Eddie saw Jeff shaking from the corner of his eyes and he moved from where he was burrowed against Chris. He took in the sight of his friend’s feverish gaze and an unstable grin cracking across the usually remote face. “Hey, holmes. You enjoying the game that much?”

 

The blithe remark snapped Jeff back to the present moment and he clasped his hands in his lap. “Yes,” he lied. He couldn’t scare off Eddie -- no, that would just make the man be further entrapped in Satan’s clutches.

 

“I’m gonna go to the concession stand. Do you guys want anything?” Chris murmured, getting on his feet.

 

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, cariño,” Eddie replied while Hardy didn’t say anything.

 

Something akin to relief swelled up in Jeff when Benoit left and he scooted closer to the latino. “Thanks for inviting me. I know I’m not exactly talkative.”

 

Eddie only smiled and slung an arm around the younger wrestler. “No worries, ese. Glad you could come with us,” he reassured.

 

Jeff was in heaven at the contact, sighing inaudibly. He rested his head on the chicano’s shoulder. He sneaked a hand around to grab Eddie’s, heart beating rapidly at their intertwined fingers. The other man didn’t noticed, talking animatedly about some Christmas party at Jericho’s place a few years ago. He didn’t pay attention, disinterested in the conversation. All he could think about was how his angel would look in red. He suddenly had a strong desire to break the latino’s fingers, wanting to hear the screams.

 

“Rey poured all the punch in the bathtub and by the time Malenko and I found him, he was in it, with his clothes on! You should’ve been there, hombre, it was the most hilarious -- ow!” Eddie cut off with a yelp, laces of pain running up from the awful crunching. He yanked his arm away, flexing his digits and wincing. “What the fuck?” he muttered.

 

“Ah, sorry. I got too excited,” Jeff apologized, stifling his joy. _‘Such a pretty cry.’_

 

“No kidding,” Eddie groused, massaging his fingers gingerly and casting a worried glance at Hardy. Before he could ask what was wrong, his lover had returned with nachos, a chili cheese hot dog, and Pepsi.

 

“You okay, cheri?” Chris questioned, spotting the grimace, plopping in the chair.

 

Eddie’s eyes strayed over to Jeff, a vague jab of unease spiraling in his gut. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered softly, nuzzling against Chris’ side, seeking safety.

 

Something in the back of his mind was trying to warn him to be careful, but that was ridiculous.

 

Jeff was just over-enthusiastic. A harmless kid.

**  
  
**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“What hotel you staying at?” Chris asked amiably.

 

“Um, Marriott.”

 

“Oh, that’s cool! We’re at Buenos Aires. It’s about a ten minute drive away,” he exclaimed, surprised at the close distance between their hotels.

 

Jeff grunted, bored. They were all walking back to the parking garage. The game had nearly ended in a riot when the home team lost. He stepped behind Eddie, admiring the ass. He waited until the Canadian was out of earshot and then angled forward to whisper - “Can you stay the night with me, please?”

 

The hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck bristled and he suppressed a shiver. “Sorry?” He didn’t understand the request.

 

“I’ve been in a bad state lately and I don’t want to be alone tonight, but if it’s too much to ask, I understand,” Jeff mumbled, appearing crestfallen.

 

Whatever dread Eddie felt, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore Hardy’s distress, not when he was so painfully familiar with loneliness and despair. “Yeah, sure. Lemme go tell Chris and then I’ll meet you at your car.”

 

Jeff smiled, extremely pleased as Guerrero strode over to Benoit. He could barely contain himself at the prospect of having more time with his angel.

 

Forty minutes later, they pulled in the lot at the Marriott.

 

Eddie climbed out of the passenger seat as soon as the vehicle came to a stop, eager to escape the confines of the tiny sedan. He normally wasn’t claustrophobic, but the ride had been ….. weird. Hardy kept touching and squeezing his knee. He’d spoken up about it, and Jeff had blushed and withdrew away. _‘So strange.’_  When he’d told Benoit about staying over, the Canadian had gave him a sly look.

 

_“You sure he’s really having a rough time, Ed?”_

__

 

_“What you mean?”_

__

 

_“Cheri, it’s just a hunch, but I think that man has a crush on you.”_

 

He’d ignored his lover’s teasings, but now he wasn’t so sure. If Chris was right, then it would certainly account for Jeff’s peculiar behavior. He sighed and scratched his neck. He didn’t like doing it, but he would have to find a way to bring Hardy down gently.

 

They went inside the lobby, getting on the elevator to the second floor. Jeff slid the keycard in the door slot, opening it and entering the room. He turned the lights on and headed to the bathroom to piss. “There’s only one bed. I can sleep on the floor if you want,” he called out.

 

“Nah, it’s fine. We can share it. There’s more than enough space, unless you’re a hog,” Eddie quipped. He’d have to tell the man tomorrow because he was too exhausted. It was after 11 and he was ready to sleep. He took his jacket off and shed his clothes until he was in boxer shorts and a tank top, crawling on the mattress and snuggling under the covers. He moaned at the satisfaction of collapsing after a long day.

 

Jeff flushed the toilet and returned to the room. “Thanks for coming over agai--” he said, stopping when he realized the smaller man was already passed out. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow,” he grunted. He really couldn’t believe what he was seeing, an angel sleeping in his bed. It was truly an honor. He changed into sweatpants and a faded white shirt with old paint stains. He took his hair tie out, long strands falling over his shoulders. He got in the bed, draping himself over the dozing body, careful not to bear his weight on Eddie. The latino was in such a heavy slumber, not stirring once. Not when he pressed his lips over the mouth, closing his eyes at the softness.

 

_‘Mouth made of sin.’_

 

He moved back, caressing Eddie’s face. Tingles raced up his spine and he bit on the inside of his cheek. He exhaled sharply, brimming with need, but he couldn’t act yet. The angel was tainted with the Devil’s seeds. He would have to purify the sullied blood before he could proceed. “Don’t worry. One day, you’ll be mine - clean and flawless like you should be,” he purred, nibbling on an earlobe. The chicano beneath him squirmed, brows creasing as the lips parted slightly. Excitement boiled in him and he couldn’t resist, palming the front of the boxers under the blankets, gasping when he could feel the bulge.

 

“Chris...not now, por favor…”

 

Everything turned red and he recoiled away from the other wrestler. The restless stirrings faded and Guerrero was fully asleep again. He snarled and paced in the room, anger coursing through his veins. In a moment of spite, he grasped his pen knife, flicking the blade out. He then pushed the razor edge against the exposed throat, cutting a thin layer of skin and blood trickling down. Surprisingly, Eddie remained unconscious, snoring lightly in the room and a faint look of pain contorting the face into a frown. “I’ll get erase Satan’s influences on you and you won’t _ever_ call out his vile name again by the time I’m done,” he vowed, bending down to lap up the blood.

 

 **  
** He’ll make Eddie heavenly again, cleanse the sins if it was the very last thing he did.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 


	3. The Depths of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Psychopathy,  
> a carefree life.  
> Insanity,  
> an illusion that can't end.  
> Captivity,  
> unable to run away!"  
> \- Insanity by Vocaloid (Miki and Kaito)

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie was awakened from a dream in which he kept hearing the sounds of an ax sharpening behind him, but no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find it. He opened his eyes and found himself on a bed in an unfamiliar room. It took him a minute to remember that he’d accompanied Hardy last night to this hotel. He yawned and sat up, stretching his arms. It was then that he realized something was…..off. He looked down, confused that he was wearing a large brown sweater, one sleeve sliding off his shoulder. He was fairly certain that he’d fallen asleep in a tank top last night and he didn’t own any tan-colored shirts. He surveyed the room, but he couldn’t spot his clothes and he sat up straighter in alarm, noticing that his boxers were gone too. His brain went blank with panic as he stiffened on the mattress. _‘Where’s my phone?’_ he thought frantically, wanting to call Chris to come and pick him up. He felt like he was in danger -- he didn’t know why, but he had to get out of here. He pulled the covers up, sheltering his lower half. A rustling noise made him look up, seeing Jeff walking towards him.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Jeff purred, smiling brightly.

“This isn’t funny, holmes. Where are my clothes?” Eddie retorted, glaring at the younger wrestler.

“They were filthy. I couldn’t let you get dirty,” Jeff explained, frowning slightly as he drew closer to the foot of the bed. He didn’t like that the latino was in a bad mood.

Eddie jerked away from the proximity, his blood running cold when he realized his left ankle was tied to the bedpost by a heavy link of chains.

“Oh, sorry about that. I couldn’t have you leaving.”

The genuine regret behind the words didn’t make him feel any better and he scooted as far away from the lean man as he could. Every fiber and nerve in his body was on edge. “What’s going on?” he demanded, hoping he appeared more pissed off rather than how freaked out he really was.

“It’s about time you and I have a talk. About us,” Jeff replied calmly, still smiling. He traced the latino’s leg lightly, earning a twitch.

“U-Us? There is no us, Jeff. Are you high?” Eddie sputtered, growing irritated all the while remaining wary. He was tied with no keys, and angering the only person who could free him wasn’t a particularly good idea. He pulled the sweater down, hating the vulnerability.

“Don’t hide yourself from me. You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Jeff admonished, reaching out to caress the chicano’s face. “Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

Eddie twisted out of Hardy’s gentle grip, cold sweat breaking over his clammy skin. “Notice what?”

“That I love you.”

“Jeff, you know I’m in a relationship. I can’t --”

“Oh, yes, I know. With Chris, the devil.”

Eddie’s mouth fell shut, taken back by the animosity under the surly growl. He jumped in surprise when Hardy brandished a small pen knife, eyeing him as if he was some interesting specimen to be experimented on. “H-Hombre?” he prompted, his voice now small.

“It puzzled me for a long time. Why you would choose to be with a disgustingly, lowly creature,” Jeff drawled, twirling the tool around, grazing the tip daintily across the leg and stopping just shy of the thigh. “Then it occurred to me. Stockholm Syndrome. Satan has poisoned you and brainwashed you into believing that he was a human being who could love you. And in answer to your earlier question, no I’m not high. In fact, my head is the clearest it has ever been in years, and I have you to thank for that, angel.”

Eddie stared at the wrestler wide-eyed, too shocked to come up with a suitable response. An unnamed fear clouded over him and he shivered in the face of the insanity before him. “Now would be a good time to say you’re joking,” he laughed weakly.

Jeff paused thoughtfully. If he let Eddie go, the man might be furious and possibly abandon him forever, but would remained without any permanent damage. They could put this behind them and chalked it up to a distasteful prank.

If he backed out now.

If.

He snorted under his breath and allowed himself a good chuckle at the expense of his pet. “Oh, babe I’m serious. Now, you don’t need to thank me for rescuing you. It’ll take me a while to clean the poison out, but I’m confident we can get the job done.”

“Jeff, stop it. There’s no poison,” Eddie hissed, growing increasingly frightened. He didn’t know where this side of Hardy was coming from, but it was damn near creepy.

“You’re just so innocent, aren’t you? It’s really sad that bastard corrupted you.”

Sharp pain vibrated from his leg and his eyes shot down in time to see the knife plunging in his thigh right above the knee. He was too numbed to scream as he sat paralyzed on the bed.

Jeff smiled sorrowfully, bringing the blade out and licking the blood dripping off the edges. “You see, angel, I’m going to make you pure again.”

Eddie trembled, finally snapping back to life when hands started to take the sweater off. He fought and squirmed, not wanting to be fully naked in front of this psycho. “Stop it!” he protested, going rigid when he felt the knife pressing against his throat.

“Don’t struggle, please. This is for your own good.”

He shut his eyes, biting back a whimper when the shirt was tugged over his head. He clutched the blankets and brought them higher up his hips. He was at the mercy of a maniac bearing a knife and he was more worried about his dignity. The absurd notion almost made him laugh -- _‘Well, mi madre always said I didn’t have my priorities straight.’_

“I honestly don’t understand why you cover up your beauty. It should be a sin to hide it,” Jeff sighed, letting the tip of the knife slide underneath the sheets to rest on the navel. “Why would you turn away from me? You clearly don’t have a problem with having yourself sodomized by the devil,” he muttered, grabbing the latino’s ear and twisting it. The squeal stirred the butterflies in his stomach and he could feel himself hardening.

Eddie gripped the wrist with both hands, bringing his knees up as he floundered, the blankets slipping down slightly.

Jeff’s nostrils flared in excitement and he yanked the sheets down to the edges of the bed, nearly going mad with want.

Eddie blushed furiously, his neck reddening all the way to the tips of his ears. He instantly clamped his thighs together, ignoring the blood oozing from the stab wound.

“No need to be shy. Go ahead and open up for me.”

A high-pitched whine ripped out of Eddie and he shook his head frantically, hyperventilating when Hardy tried to pry his legs apart. “No! Stop, please don’t!” he pleaded shrilly, wanting to shrivel up and die from the pathetic desperation in his voice. He felt like a moth pinned up in a display case.

Jeff paused, his brows furrowing. His angel had said no. He couldn’t continue on, it would only further stain the chicano. He couldn’t have that, no sir. He backed away, placing the knife down on the tableside. He would have to wait after he convinced the man that their lovemaking was necessary for the purifying process. “My apologies. I got ahead of myself,” he murmured.

Eddie fearfully opened his eyes, stunned that the pendejo actually left him alone. He glanced at Hardy, perspiration dampening his hairline as he panted. His body was gradually starting to calm down now that he wasn’t in any grave danger. He gingerly touched his earlobe, wincing at the pain flaming from the contact.

“I can’t cleanse you here. It’s a painful process, I’m afraid, and I can’t risk being interrupted. We’re going to have to do it at another place, another time,” Jeff spoke absently, almost as if he was talking to himself. He scratched his nose, deciding he’d figure something out later. “I’ll let you go for now, but I need your cooperation. No more sinful acts with Satan, it’ll only make the purifying longer than it needs to be. I’ll be in touch with you later,” he continued, taking a key out of his pocket and unlocking the cuffs of the chains, freeing the ankle.

Eddie immediately scrambled away, grabbing a large pillow and hugging it. He watched Hardy walk to the bathroom, the multicolored hair bouncing in a bun. A second later, the man was back, carrying an armful of clothes and dropping them on the bed in front of his feet.

“I washed your stuff for you. They’re dry now,” Jeff mumbled, placing the latino’s phone on top of the pants. “I also charged your cell.”

Eddie hesitated before snatching his boxers from the pile, slinging them on from behind the pillow. Relief swamped over him now that he wasn’t so exposed. He then shrug his tank top and shirt on, and push his arms through the sleeves of his jackets. He tugged his jeans on, fingers pulling the zipper up. He stiffened when a hand waft through his hair.

“I’m putting a lot of trust in you. Don’t make me regret it, okay?”

He swallowed and tucked his chin in, eyes burning with something he didn’t recognized as Jeff continued petting him. He picked up his phone and stood up, his legs wobbling slightly from sitting down for so long. He hurriedly made his way to the exit, leaving the hotel once he made it to the lobby. He limped down the street, shakily dialing Benoit’s number. He shielded his face from the brightness of the sun, a headache slowly creeping up. After a few rings, his cariño answered.

“Hey, cheri.”

“C-Chris. Can you get me, por favor? I’m by McDonald’s near the interstate,” Eddie asked, trying to keep the wavering out of his voice. He was almost to the fast food joint, wanting to put as much distance between him and Jeff as possible.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in five. Everything okay?”

“Si, I’m fine. Thanks,” Eddie replied, hanging up. Once he made it to McDonald’s, he sat on the bench, wincing as his thigh seized up. He glanced down and carefully poked the darkening spot on the pants. The blood had soaked up the denim fabric, making it wet and cold to the touch. He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He still couldn’t understand what had just occurred in the hotel. There was a whole new side to Hardy that he’d never seen before, and it terrified him. He shivered, despite the humidity. A loud honk startled him and he looked up to see the chevrolet pulling in. As promised, Benoit had came in five minutes. _‘Thank Dios.’_ He stood up, nearly racing to the car.

Chris got out of his driver’s seat, opening the door. “Hey, dear --” his greeting cut off when Eddie ran into his arms, fisting the front of his shirt as the latino nuzzled into his chest. “Ed, what’s wrong?” he questioned worriedly.

Eddie remained silent, fighting back tears in a losing battle. He buried his face in the crest of Benoit’s shoulder, seeking refuge.

Chris chewed on his lower lip, not liking the way his lover was trembling. He squeezed the smaller body, hoping to offer comfort. They stayed like that for a long time, neither moving or saying anything. After a while, however, Chris had to break the contact. He gently pushed the chicano away, his heart constricting painfully at the man’s face -- it was like Eddie had seen a ghost. Then he became alarmed when he saw a cut across the windpipe. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” he exclaimed sharply, gripping both shoulders.

“Huh?” Eddie met the concerned blue eyes, not comprehending what the Canadian was so worked up about.

“Did someone come at you with a knife? There’s an incision across your throat.”

He tensed up. _’What should I say? That Jeff is actually a crazy fuck who wants to make me ‘pure’?’_ His cariño would just laugh because that was so ridiculous. Even he himself was having a hard time believing it. “I, um, I got mugged,” he lied, averting his gaze. He felt horrible for not telling Benoit the truth, but he didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of his lover making fun of him.

“What?! Did you call the police?”

“Nah. They didn’t take anything, holmes. Can we go home?” he murmured, pretending to be nonchalant as he walked towards the passenger side of the car.

Chris blinked. His best friend was behaving uncharacteristically today and he was tempted to push the subject, but the latino was clearly finished discussing it and he didn’t want to have a fight. “Yeah, sure,” he sighed, giving up.

The drive back to the Buenos Aires hotel was unusually quiet. Where they would normally chatter or exchange jokes, Eddie was instead staring out of the window and Chris was focused on the road ahead of him. He noticed that the younger man was clenching the left thigh. “Does your leg hurt?”

“Hm? Yeah. I think they stabbed me. It’s bleeding.”

He nearly stomped on the brakes at the dismissive reply. “Eddie! Why didn’t you say something before? You should have been at the hospital,” he snapped.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Nothing that peroxide and bandages can’t fix,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “You’re overreacting, papi.”

“Overreacting? That’s stupid. You’re injured, don’t act like you can tough it out. What if it becomes infected?” Chris argued hotly.

“If it becomes infected, then I’ll see a doctor,” Eddie groaned insolently, crossing his arms. “I’ll be okay.”

“Fine.”

He flinched at the curt tone, guilt weighing down on him heavily. He wanted to apologize, but Benoit wouldn’t understand. He glimpsed out of the window again, realizing that they’d arrived at the hotel parking lot. He felt marginally better now that they were here.

They went to their room on the first floor, the door falling shut once they stepped inside.

“Peroxide is in the bathroom, under the sink,” Chris muttered, pointing the direction the chicano would need to go as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Gracias,” Eddie said, walking over across the room. He took the bottle and a bag of cottonballs out of the cabinet, slipping out of his pants and sitting on the toilet. The entry wound had became worse in the past hour, the skin peeling back to reveal torn muscles and crusty blood. He looked up, trying not to gag.

“Oh my God,” Chris gasped when he came in the bathroom and saw the state of the thigh.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Eddie promised, dabbing a cottonball with the chemical liquid and pressing it on the injury. He almost cried out when white hot pain bolted from the searing pressure, but he bit on his tongue. He didn’t want to worry Benoit who had grown pale in the passing time. He discarded the swab when it became soaked with blood, repeating the process over and over until the ripped flesh was no longer oozing.

Chris handed the latino a box of bandages, feeling sick to his stomach. Even though he’d been wrestling for almost two decades now, he couldn’t stand gore. It was too gruesome and the smell always made him retch. He hated that he was helpless in this situation, but he had to grudgingly admire the determined look on Eddie’s face as the other man patched up.

“There, it should heal up soon,” Eddie announced languidly, standing up once he was done applying the last bandage. “I’ll have to throw bleach in when I wash the pants,” he muttered to himself, reluctantly gathering the jeans in his hands.

“Why didn’t Jeff drop you off here?” Chris inquired curiously, watching the smaller man wander around the main room.

“Uh, he had to go get his brother. It was an emergency,” Eddie answered, throwing the denims in an empty bag. He then sat in one of the chairs, exhaling loudly. He was exhausted for some reason.

“Ah,” Chris grunted, sitting down next to his friend. “How was last night? Did he say why he was having a rough time?”

“Something about …. family drama getting to him. He, um, he wanted to vent,” Eddie stammered, grasping at straws. He really hated lying to Benoit, but there was nothing he could do. He would have to take care of this problem before it got out of hand. He’d call the police if Jeff bothered him again. It was regretful since the kid had potential to reach the top of the company, but he couldn’t allow himself to be dragged further into this insane game, and he couldn’t let Chris get involved -- not when Hardy was convinced that the Canadian was the devil. He would never forgive himself if his cariño got hurt.

“Oh? So he didn’t proclaim his love to you?” Chris teased. It was obvious that Jeff had a crush on the chicano. It was undeniable to anyone who saw the way the multicolored-haired kid interact with Eddie -- looks that strayed too long in certain places and how Hardy stayed close as if they were joined at the hip. It was amusing, and he did feel sorry for the kid. He knew what it was like to love someone who wasn’t available.

Eddie blanched, recalling the words spoken earlier this morning. He doubted Hardy really loved him; it was more like an unhealthy fascination than a crush. “No, he hasn’t. You’re probably wrong,” he joked lightly, hoping Benoit didn’t notice the strain in his voice.

“Only time will tell. Five bucks say i’m right,” Chris laughed, offering his hand.

Eddie’s smile faltered a little and he shook his best friend’s hand. “You’re on.”

**  
  
**

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

**  
  
**

The following week had passed by uneventfully without much significance, and there were no texts or calls from Jeff. Despite all that, Eddie was still apprehensive when he arrived at SmackDown. He only had to do a segment and then he’d be placed as a road agent.

His promo went well, no incidences disrupting his speech, and he was surprised when he received a standing ovation. He wasn’t expecting the audience to be so distraught over him leaving the ring. Benoit had always told him that he was popular and beloved by the fans, but he never saw it until tonight.

He made his way back to the locker room, undoing his tie. He was reaching for his phone when a voice startled him.

“Seems like everyone is gonna miss you.”

He swiveled around, glaring at Jeff. “What the hell are you doing here?” he snarled.

Jeff grinned at the latino happily. He’d been looking forward to seeing his idol all week and Eddie was as handsome as ever. His entire being was hungry to devour the tantalizing flesh. “Don’t hurt my feelings. I told you I would be in touch, did I not?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, backing away from the approaching man. “Stay away, or I’ll call the cops,” he threatened, trying his damnedest to not tremble, the memory of the knife still all too fresh in his mind.

“You just have to do this the hard way, don’t you?” Jeff sighed, as if Eddie was a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Wha--?” Eddie’s question was abruptly muffled when a someone grabbed him from behind and a wet rag slapped over him, covering his nose and mouth. A sickly sweet smell with the underlying hint of rottenness clogged his throat and he struggled briefly. Jeff’s words became distorted and the world started swaying. He felt woozy, the pungent odor overwhelming his senses and his eyes drooping closed, and his thrashings became weaker. He went limp in the arms, his world fading away to darkness.

**  
  
  
**

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The next time Eddie woke up, he was lying down on his side, drool dribbling from one corner of his mouth. He opened his eyes, blinking away the blurriness. Once his vision was stabilized, he realized he was in the backseat of a car. He sat up, wincing as his head pounded in his skull. He worked his jaw, the joint creaking slightly, and his mouth was parched dry. He looked down, shocked when he discovered he was handcuffed.

“The sleeping beauty finally awakens.”

The sarcastic quip made him recoil and he raised his gaze to the driver staring at him in the review mirror. He squinted, not sure if he was recognizing the man right. “M-Matt?”

“Welcome to your hell. That was chloroform earlier, by the way. Knocks you right out,” Matt greeted, turning his attention back to the road. They’d been driving for a little over a hour now on the country freeway, heading west.

“Where are you taking me?” Eddie muttered, playing with the cuffs, trying to see if there was any wiggle room he could slip a hand out.

“To an isolated place in the middle of nowhere. We won’t be bothered there. Jeff will be joining us as soon as he’s done with his match. Don’t bother trying to get free; I made sure those were nice and tight,” Matt grunted, tapping his fingers along the steering wheel.

“Why are you helping him?”

“I never thought dear Jeff would actually make his fantasies into a reality. Guess I shouldn’t underestimate my baby brother. I figure it’d be fun to see what he comes up with. Not like I have anything better to do.”

“You’re doing this because you’re bored? Are you puta loco like him too?”

“Time to teach you manners,” Matt growled, slamming the brakes and smirking when the sudden stop caused the latino to careen into the back of the passenger seat with a yelp. He pulled the car to the side of the road, getting out and yanking Eddie from the backseat.

Eddie stumbled, tripping over his feet and collapsing on the rocky ground. A foot stomped on his head, smashing his face in the gravel, the rocks cutting fine lines across his cheeks. Then he was pulled up in a sitting position, Hardy pinning him against the tire of the smoky gray vehicle. His chin was grabbed and yanked upward, forcing him to meet the darkened gaze.

“Listen here, I don’t have any qualms about killing you. I can snap your neck and dump your body in the woods where it’ll be eaten and disposed of by nature. You’re alive _only_ because Jeff likes you, but if you insult him or me one more time, you’ll be dead before you can ever bat an eyelash and I’ll just tell my brother that there was an unfortunate accident. Understand?” Matt spat, tightening his grip.

Eddie winced and nodded, shaking from where he was slouched against the car.

“Good, now keep quiet.”

He was unwillingly tugged to stand up, being shoved into the backseat. His shoulder twisted uncomfortably out of its range-of-motion when he landed on the cushions.

Satisfied, Matt climbed in the driver’s side, shifting the gear out of park and continued going down the lonely interstate. He was lucky that they were the only ones on this road. He glanced up at the sun high in the sky, making note that they were running a bit behind schedule and flooring the gas.

Fifteen minutes later, he was at his destination. He pulled into the driveway of an old, abandoned house. It was white with shingles in slight disrepair, the door hanging off the frame, and one of the windows broken by juveniles. The house was passed on to the brothers when their great aunt died three years ago. They never used it, but it was the perfect location for Jeff’s plans -- the nearest neighbors were at least ten miles away. Matt dragged Eddie inside. The interior wasn’t in better conditions, the wallpapers being eaten away by rodents and the wooden floor covered with dust and waste. “Hope you don’t mind rats,” he quipped, leading the latino to the basement entrance. “You go first.”

Eddie cringed when Hardy pushed his dislocated shoulder, tumbling forward. He made his way carefully down the unstable stairs straining ominously under his feet. The musky air crinkled his nose and he suppressed the urge to sneeze. Right when he passed halfway down the steps, he was kicked in the back of his knees. He yipped, his legs giving out under him, and he crashed down the stairs, rolling down until he slammed against the opposite wall. Everything went white and he shut his eyes, hating the vertigo.

“Oops, my bad. Come on, get up.”

A hand gripped the underside of his biceps, forcing him to get on his feet, nearly falling again. Something wet trickled down his face and he realized he was bleeding. He felt dizzy, unable to see straight as he blindly followed Matt. He vaguely spot a bed in the middle of the basement

**  
  
**

Matt kicked the mattress off, revealing the metallic frame. He thrust the chicano on it, enjoying the pain the other man clearly was experiencing.

Eddie stifled a mewl when one of the loose coils dug into the small of his back. His legs were splayed apart, iron chains wrapping around his ankles heavily. He wanted to sob, the fact he was being trapped again terrified the hell out of him. The handcuffs were removed, but before he could do anything, his wrists were yanked away and tied to the edge of the frame.

Once Matt was finished restraining the smaller man, he stepped away to admire his handiwork. The latino was eagle spread on the black bed structure. “Looks like you’re not going anywhere for a while.”

Eddie stared at the ceiling, despair creeping in the edges of his resolve. He heard Matt leaving, the footsteps fading.

“Jeff will be here soon, just sit tight.”

His ears burned at the laughter and he closed his eyes against the shame heating his skin.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There were no windows down here. He was lost in his own thoughts when he heard the door open, the stairs creaking making him tense up.

“Hello, angel.”

Terror erupted in him and he sucked in a deep breath, staying perfectly still as possible when Jeff came into his line of sight.

“I hope you’re ready for the purifying,” Jeff murmured, leaning over the bounded man to unbutton the shirt. He could feel the heart thumping rapidly in the chest under his hands. He wondered what it would be like to hold the pumping organ. He shook his head, discarding the idea, and smiled. “I see you’re just as excited as I am,” he commented, pushing the shirt aside to expose the torso.

Eddie’s face whitened when the braided wrestler pulled out a large hunting knife. He wanted to say something, to plead for the pendejo to stop, but he was frozen with fear.

“I have to warn you, it’ll hurt. It’s okay if your true voice comes out, I can handle it,” Jeff crooned, angling the tip to the area a few inches below the sternum and pressed down in the center, the blade penetrating below the incision.

 **  
** Eddie didn’t understand what the hell Jeff meant by _‘true voice,’_ but all his thoughts vanished at the sensation of the knife edging in his flesh. He stiffened for a brief moment, eyes wide, before he threw his head back and screamed, his ragged cries echoing off the walls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> "Damn, if you didn't want me back,  
> why'd you have to act like that?  
> It's confusing to core  
> 'cause I know you want it.  
> Oh, and if you don't wanna be something substantial to me,  
> then why do you give me more?  
> Babe, I know you want it."  
> \- Super Psycho Love by Simon Curtis


End file.
